Before I can control myself I'm screaming. I'm pounding my fists into the last part of Damien I'll ever see. The last part of him I'll ever touch. After a while I just lie there, my cheek against Damien's dried blood and the cold wood floor. Numbness spreads through me like a virus, and I can't bring myself to move from the floor. I can't bring myself to even blink.
Sunlight peeks in through my window. Something gleams in my peripheral vision and I glance under my bed. My locket sparkles as the bright light bounces off its surface. I don't remember it falling off. I don't remember being without it. On top of my grief of losing Damien, I'm angry with myself for forgetting the last and only gift he'd ever given me. I snatch it from underneath my bed and clasp it around my neck.
Then my nightmare shifts.
; Twists.
Contorts.
I'm standing in front of the small one story house. The white paint on the siding is chipped off in spots, a few windows have cracks in them, and the black shutters dangle from their hinges. There's an empty can of gasoline at my feet, a book of matches in my right pocket. I rub the book of matches with the tips of my trembling fingers, nervous about what I'm going to do. But I tell myself I have to do this.
I have to. I have to. I have to.
There will be too much agony if this house stays standing. Too many bad memories. Too much pain.
Neither Mommy’s or Damien’s death will be avenged.
Daddy living the remainder of his life in a prison cell isn't enough. No. This is the only way. I remove the book of matches from my pocket, pluck one from the bunch, and then I strike it. The only way to bring any kind of peace to my mind, and to somehow deal with the death of my mother and love, is to burn this God damned house.
Yes, I hiss in my mind.
And I swear I hear Damien behind me whispering, “Do it, Addy. Do it.”
Then before I can stop myself, I drop the lit match onto the ground, my eyes zoomed in on the trail of gasoline I left as it goes up in a mixture of orange and yellow flames. The newly lit flames whirl before me snapping, crackling, and hissing. Then I take a few steps back and lift my head as the house full death and misery burns to the fucking ground.
I wake up screaming, but suddenly my screams are stifled.
Where is Aurora? Did I wake her?
My eyes flit around the room, but there are white spots clouding my vision.
There are beads of sweat dripping down my forehead and I struggle to breathe. It feels like someone's hands are wrapped around my throat. It feels like the person choking me is determined. They won't rest until my eyes roll back into my head and they've crushed my windpipe.
Then I realize I am strangling myself.
I refuse to let go. I refuse to let go because death will be sweet. Death will be beautiful. I'll get to see Mommy, and Damien, and Daddy will be left to rot on earth alone.
Hopefully in misery.
I know that misery loves company.
I pray he never gets any.
Three nurses, two orderlies, and one doctor stampede through the door. There's shouting, but it's muffled. I think I hear a faint whimper from Aurora. A nurse and an orderly stand on each side of me and try to pry my hands from my throat, but I squeeze with more force. Soon more tiny white dots blur my vision.
The doctor is shouting orders at the staff members in my room. Everything is slipping.
Fading.
My surroundings flash in and out of focus. I am so close to Mommy and Damien.
So close. So close. So close.
I think I see their hands reaching for me. Then I hear a faint voice, it's too soft and high-pitched to be Damien's. “Not now, little bird. It's not your time.” The voice belongs to Mommy.
I feel a pinch in my right arm. My eyes roll to the left and the metal tip of a needle gleams beneath the flickering fluorescent light above my head. No. Not more drugs. Anything but more drugs. Please.